Poem dealing with failure of parents, schools, and community in child rearing. |
What Child is This? “Proud parent … Honor Roll student …” Shouts the bumper of mom’s SUV. Slender, male, blond, thirteen – the youth Referenced to a T. But mom and dad – they both are gone Before their time to lie ‘Neath cold and loamy soil this dawn, ‘Twas not their time to die. In prime of life with years to go Both victims to this son, Their own lifeblood, ‘twas not a foe What child is this who’s done; Who’s done this deed this day we note Just one along the way To morrow’s dawn, we’ve learned by rote, That brings a better day. What child is this who’s done this thing Unthought of til this day? ‘Tis you and I, the ages sing, Who reared this child to slay. But ten and three years past this May Was born of hopes and dreams, And grew in stature day by day, How short a time it seems! Was taught by mom, by dad, by those Who teach the young in schools. Was taught by all of us who pose, By those who know the rules. And learned to pan what we expect Of child – “do what I say,” Yet do ourselves what we accept To further our own way. To further our own way With little thought for son. To further our own way, He learned the way it’s done. And turned to street, to drugs, to peers In search of something more, And found at last someone who hears, And found an open door. An open door not seen by us Who watched him every day, A door that led to emptiness And death along the way. Along the way to carelessness Of life and all its joys. Along the way to recklessness And now we sadly poise. To further our own way, Lord, To further our own way. What child is this we see this day, Who claims him as their son? We knew him only yesterday, What child this deed has done? |